[There's a part of Paul that might have sought a meaning in what happened that skewed towards the poetic, the symbolic. Something about cycles, or the inevitability of fate, or echoes. That capacity still exists inside of him.

But most of what Paul thinks of what happened, in a numb, accepting way, is that he had managed to weave himself into a constructed blindness while convincing himself he could see clearly, and shame is sometimes an excellent corrective to grand internal narratives, especially if not resisted.

Or: he was stupid, and he was stupid on purpose, which is worse, and it hurt people, which is what matters.]

I'll try to fix it. [He runs his fingertips together, a little waterfall of touch.] I'm helping with the rituals to calm the sea. Apologizing, to the people who want to hear it. Cleaning up my mess.

I don't know what else to do. That seemed like somewhere to start.

I am sorry. That still doesn't mean you have to forgive me, but - you know that, I think. I don't expect you to.